Flipped by Wendelin Van Draanen Page A

“Just
look
at it. It's a complete dive!”
    “It is not!” I cried, but the truth was sitting right across the street, impossible to deny. My throat suddenly choked closed and I found it painful to speak. “Have you… always thrown them away?”
    He shrugged and looked down. “Juli, look. We didn't want to hurt your feelings.”
    “My feelings? Do you realize Mrs. Stueby and Mrs. Helms
pay
me for my eggs?”
    “You're kidding.”
    “No! They pay me two dollars a dozen!”
    “No way.”
    “It's true! All those eggs I gave to you I could've sold to Mrs. Stueby or Mrs. Helms!”
    “Oh,” he said, and looked away. Then he eyed me and said,“Well, why did you just
give
them to us?”
    I was fighting back tears, but it was hard. I choked out, “I was trying to be neighborly…!”
    He put down the trash can, then did something that made my brain freeze. He held me by the shoulders and looked me right in the eyes. “Mrs. Stueby's your neighbor, isn't she? So's Mrs. Helms, right? Why be neighborly to us and not them?”
    What was he trying to say? Was it still so obvious how I felt about him? And if he knew, how could he have been so heartless, just throwing my eggs away like that, week after week, year after year?
    I couldn't find any words. None at all. I just stared at him, at the clear, brilliant blue of his eyes.
    “I'm sorry, Juli,” he whispered.
    I stumbled home, embarrassed and confused, my heart completely cracked open.

Get a Grip, Man

    It didn't take long for me to realize that I'd traded in my old problems with Juli Baker for a whole new set of problems with Juli Baker. I could feel her anger a mile away.
    It was actually worse having her mad at me than having her harass me. Why? Because I'd screwed up, that's why. I had egg all over my face, and blaming it on her yard had done nothing to wash it off. The way she ignored me, or so obviously avoided me, was a screaming loud reminder to me that I'd been a jerk. A royal cluck-faced jerk.
    Then one day I'm coming home from hanging out with Garrett after school, and there's Juli in her front yard, hacking at a shrub. She is thrashing on the thing. Branches are flying over her shoulder, and clear across the street I can hear her grunting and growling and saying stuff like, “No…you… don't! You are coming… off… whether you like it or …not!”
    Did I feel good about this? No, my friend, I did not. Yeah, their yard was a mess, and it was about time someone did something about it, but c'mon — where's the dad? What about Matt and Mike? Why Juli?
    Because I'd embarrassed her into it, that's why. I felt worse than ever.
    So I snuck inside and tried to ignore the fact that here's my desk and here's my window, and right across the street from me is Juli, beating up a bush. Not conducive to concentration. No siree, Bob. I got all of zero homework done.
    The next day at school I was trying to get up the nerve to say something to her, but I never even got the chance. She wouldn't let me get anywhere near her.
    Then on the ride home I had this thought. It kind of freaked me out at first, but the more I played with it, the more I figured that, yeah, helping her with the yard would make up for my having been such a jerk. Assuming she didn't boss me too much, and assuming she didn't decide to get all gooey-eyed or something stupid like that. No, I'd go up and just tell her that I felt bad for being a jerk and I wanted to make it up to her by helping her cut back some bushes. Period. End of story. And if she still wanted to be mad at me after that, then fine. That was her problem.
    My
problem was, I never got the chance. I came trekking down from the bus stop to find my
grandfather
doing
my
good deed.
    Now, jump back. This was not something I could immediately absorb. My grandfather did not do yard work. At least, he'd never offered to help
me
out. My grandfather lived in house slippers — where'd he get those work boots? And those jeans and that flannel shirt